


Kansas is For Lovers

by isengard



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: I don't know how this happened, M/M, True Colors, cornfield sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-26 08:39:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/648679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isengard/pseuds/isengard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“But then you were <em>you</em>,” Bart continues, letting a little emotion slip into his voice, “and – God, I don’t know anymore.  We’re…whatever we are, and I keep telling myself, <em>don’t fall for this guy</em>, because I’ve <em>seen</em> the future, and I know – but what if that’s not the future anymore?”  He’s talking faster, louder.  “I mean, you go and say things like that, and I believe you.  I was there in the lab the other day, I saw how much pain you were in.  And you would’ve kept going, all to stop something that we don’t even know is going to happen.  I mean, maybe that whole shitstorm’s been avoided by now.  I just…I just don’t know.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kansas is For Lovers

_I have located the Impulse, Jaime Reyes_.

“Great. Where?”

 _Six point four miles southwest of here_. The scarab pinpoints Bart’s location on a map for him. _Jaime Reyes, it is imprudent –_

“Stuff it,” he mutters. “You’re not my mom.”

_That is hardly relevant _.__

Christ, why couldn’t the Reach have designed some scarabs with a sense of humor?

“Yo! Nightwing,” he calls, lifting off from the ground. “Gonna go check on Impulse. He’s doing that sulking thing again.”

Dick nods. “Say no more. My best friend’s a speedster too, remember?”

"Right.” One of these days when they’re deep in the trenches, Jaime will work up the courage to ask Dick if the rumors are true – if he and Wally were ever more than just “best pals”. Maybe they can commiserate on the pros and cons of dating speedsters – the impatience, the _vibrating_ , the endless, endless eating. He can ask if Wally has the same high highs and low lows that Bart has, if it’s a side effect of super-speed, or just Bart’s learned form of instability from the future.

With his luck, Jaime will get all his answers right before he bites it for good. These are the sort of comforting thoughts that keep him lying awake at night, that follow him now as he flies through the clear night to Bart’s location.

He lands soundlessly behind Bart and to his side, although he knows Bart heard him approach. The slight redhead is gazing, at what he’s not sure, something between the tops of the corn and the stars blazing across the horizon. Jaime’d make some dumb crack about stargazing being for geeks, but he’s pretty sure Bart’s not in the mood.

He de-armors from the neck up. As much as he’d like to shed the entire suit, it’s cold outside, and he’s gotten into the habit of wearing just his boxers under the Beetle suit. Things get a little bunched up under the tight metal plates, his mother’s expressed a fair amount of exasperation at wrinkles that won’t come out.

Bart lets out a sigh, which Jaime supposes is his way of acknowledging his presence, and he steps closer, lining up his shoulder with Bart’s chin, mimicking his stance with his arms crossed, legs spread, toes pointed out like he can’t decide which direction to run off in.

He traces the line of the Big Dipper with his eyes and says, “You wanna talk about it?”

Bart’s fingers drum against his own bicep and he turns to look at Jaime, frowning slightly. “’Bout what?"

“Um.” Jaime glances at the cornfield, and then back at Bart. “Whatever it is you’re like, brooding about?”

Bart raises an eyebrow and scoffs. “Please. I don’t brood.”

Jaime stares until he sees Bart’s mouth twitch in a tiny smile, and then he relaxes a little. So, Bart _didn’t_ come out here to agonize over one thing or another. That’s a relief. He nudges Bart’s arm with his elbow and says, “So what gives, ese? You just dig corn?”

Bart blushes a little and his fingers drum faster. “We’re not allowed to see it. In the future.”

Jaime blinks. “What, corn? You’re not – ”

“They grow it in domes,” Bart says, and Jaime recognizes a steel to his voice that always comes out when he’s talking about his own post-apocalyptic timeline. “Big ones, a hundred times the size of that one we just blew a hole in. No one knows what they get up to inside.” He swallows. “Only people that ever go in don’t come back out to tell us.”

“Shit.” Jaime rubs a hand over his hair. “Guess there’s some truth to the whole ‘aliens in cornfields’ thing, huh?”

Bart gives him an incredulous look. “What are you talking about?”

“You know, crop circles, cattle mutilation – seriously?” he gapes at Bart’s blank look. “Damn, hermano, we gotta get you on mode with your alien movies.”

Bart smirks. “You mean we can finally stop watching _Desperado_?”

“Hey, I never said _that_.”

“All right.” Bart’s grinning now, turning his body to face Jaime. “When do you propose we have this mostly-non- _Desperado_ movie marathon? Sometime between near-death experiences?”

Jaime laughs darkly. “Yeah, something like that.” A series of images flashes through his mind – Bart, pinned to the wall by one of Black Beetle’s bolts; Bart, knocked to the ground by a plasma blast; Bart, thrown like a rag doll against the solid walls of the dome, the type of impact his suit isn’t made to absorb. He shudders and reaches out without thinking, wrapping fingers around Bart’s shoulder and pulling him into a fierce, one-armed hug.

“Whoa,” Bart whispers, but he’s not pulling back, he’s wrapping his arms around Jaime’s waist, and Jaime feels the tickle of gloves in the hair at the back of his neck. “Who’s brooding now?”

Jaime tucks his chin into Bart’s mess of hair and inhales, trying to clear the choked feeling in the back of his throat. It’s stupid – and Bart told him so, the only time he dared to say it out loud – but Bart smells like the wind. Like sea and earth and boy and something clear and undefined that he’d chase to the top of a mountain, like a home that’s made of something other than wood and brick.

Whatever it is, it does the trick. The tightness in his chest falls away; the sudden fear that gripped his mind just moments ago fades. He loosens his grip on Bart’s shoulder, but Bart stays pressed against him, sliding one arm deftly down his back and bringing it around to intertwine their fingers.

“I’m just,” Jaime starts, clearing his throat. “I’m not good at this. You know, like we’re in the middle of a battle, and the scarab wants to take control, and I know if I let it, I can protect you, but.” He squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on the feeling of Bart’s chest rising and falling against his. “I don’t know if I’ll come back. What if that’s how it starts? What if I let it take the reins, and it turns on you?”

Bart traces the outside of Jaime’s palm with his thumb and swallows. “I’m sorry, Blue,” he murmurs. “I wish I had an answer. I don’t know – I never knew how things got to be the way they were, in my timeline. I just knew that they used to be one way, and then they were another.” He lifts his chin, and Jaime finds green eyes boring into his, somehow sparkling even in the darkness. “We didn’t exactly learn about it in history class.”

They cling together, staring too intensely for reasons Jaime is still learning to process, and then he says, “I can’t let it happen, Bart. I can’t let it hurt you. Or _anyone_ , I’d rather – ” he grits his teeth, willing the words to come out. “I’d rather die. I mean it.”

Bart sucks in a quiet breath, and Jaime notices that his eyes are shining a little brighter. Wetter. “When I came back here,” he whispers. “I didn’t know what I’d find, you know, I didn’t know if you’d already be turning or what. The first time I saw you, I thought, _maybe I should just take him out. Just do it, right now. Save the world_.”

The scarab bristles. _Jaime Reyes, the Impulse is threatening us. Suggested course of action: terminate_.

Jaime squeezes his eyes shut and thinks _SHUT UP_ as loudly and firmly as he can.

“But then you were _you_ ,” Bart continues, letting a little emotion slip into his voice, “and – God, I don’t know anymore. We’re…whatever we are, and I keep telling myself, _don’t fall for this guy_ , because I’ve _seen_ the future, and I know – but what if that’s not the future anymore?” He’s talking faster, louder. “I mean, you go and say things like that, and I believe you. I was there in the lab the other day, I saw how much pain you were in. And you would’ve kept going, all to stop something that we don’t even know is going to happen. I mean, maybe that whole shitstorm’s been avoided by now. I just…I just don’t know.”

His eyes look like they’re in danger of spilling over. Jaime’s heart thuds in his chest unevenly, and he bites his lip, trying to think of something to say – and then Bart kisses him, taking away the need to say anything at all.

It’s a hungry kiss, all of Bart’s anxiety pouring into it, into frantic little swipes of his tongue, the desperate drag of teeth against Jaime’s lower lip, the air being pulled from his lungs and making him feel lightheaded. He breaks away, gasping, and Bart’s mouth goes to his throat, licking along the edge of his suit, and Jaime wonders how it tastes; if it tastes like sweat and metal, if it tastes like blood from any of the times he’d bled on it.

“Fuck,” he moans, as Bart’s tongue licks a hot stripe up to his jaw. “ _Dios_ , Bart, I – _oh_.” He staggers backwards, clutching Bart to him, running his hands up and down those lithe sides, squeezing his hips and hesitating a fraction of a second before grabbing Bart around his thighs and hoisting him up, wrapping their bodies together, making their heads level and giving Bart’s tongue a better angle to thrust into his mouth. He meets it with his own, hot and wet and needy, and Bart’s thighs grip him harder, forcing another moan from the back of his throat.

"Is this okay?" he whispers, pressing his lips to Bart's jaw as he tilts his head back. "I don't - if you're not - "

"Too much talking," Bart grunts. "Just - _this_ , I just need this. You," he adds, threading his fingers through Jaime's hair. "Don't stop."

Another step backwards, and there are stalks of corn brushing against Jaime's ass. He jerks his hips forward, surprised, and Bart exhales hard, rolling his own hips, pushing the heat of his groin into the space below Jaime’s bellybutton. Their suits, so dependable in battle, are improbably useless against hiding arousal, and Jaime can feel the telltale twitch behind Bart’s cup rerouting his own blood flow, making him flush all over.

“God, you’re sexy,” he mutters, sliding his mouth around to nibble at Bart’s ear. His hands push forward to grip Bart’s ass, caressing and squeezing, teasing a finger down Bart’s crack.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Bart hisses, hips stuttering. “Jesus, Jaime – okay, you wanna be like that?” He nips the edge of Jaime’s jaw with a low growl, and that’s all the warning Jaime gets before he starts vibrating.

When Bart vibrates like this – moving so fast, the edges of him appear and disappear under Jaime’s fingers, making them jump on his suit, and sometimes, when he vibrates even faster, the barest hint of phasing, Jaime finds his fingers slip _under_ Bart’s suit, feeling the heat of bare skin for nanoseconds at a time. It feels like they’re melting together, like Bart’s actually phasing _into_ him, reshaping them both into one being. When he jerks off at home, he imagines how it would feel with his dick in Bart, feeling all those vibrations around him, Bart’s whole body clenching down and taking him in, swallowing him up. He thinks it’d definitely ruin him for anybody else - but of course, it doesn’t matter right now, because they aren’t there yet.

His knees buckle as Bart rocks against him again, vibrating pulses from his thighs going straight to Jaime’s cock and getting him fully hard in a matter of seconds. He takes another step back to try and right himself, and ends up tripping over a corn stalk and sending them both sprawling backwards, landing in a sweaty tangle of limbs and corn, Bart’s hands shooting out at the last second to catch himself, stopping their heads from knocking together.

Jaime busts out laughing. “Wow, that was smooth.”

Bart places a hand on his chest and smirks, straddling his hips. “But hey, as long as I’ve got you down here.” He vibrates so fast Jaime’s eyes roll back in his head, and when he looks up, Bart’s just in boxers and boots, grinning like he knows he’s about to get exactly what he wants.

“Aren’t – won’t you get cold?” Jaime gasps, raking his eyes over Bart’s naked torso.

Bart shrugs. “Nah. I run pretty warm.” He runs a finger down Jaime’s chest, and Jaime loosens his armor plates, peeling them back slightly so Bart can lean in and mouth at his bare skin.

He shivers. “Think you can keep me warm too, ese?”

“I might have some ideas,” Bart murmurs around open-mouthed kisses to his collarbone. He reaches down to palm at Jaime’s erection, and Jaime thrusts up involuntarily into his hand. His armor peels back a little more, stopping at the edge of his boxers.

Bart crawls backwards over him and snaps the exposed elastic with his teeth, making Jaime groan out loud. “You’re such a tease,” he grins, reaching back to wrap his hand around his own cock. “ _Ah_ , fuck, come on Blue, let me see you.”

The cold air makes all Jaime's hair stand up as he sheds the armor, sending it back into whatever mystical place the scarab stores it. He inhales through his teeth as Bart drapes himself carefully over him, lining up their bare chests, the tops of his boots brushing against Jaime’s shins. He shifts until their cocks are pressed together in one hard line, and Jaime bites his lip hard, tensing all over, waiting for Bart to move.

Bart leans forward and captures his mouth again, running his tongue over Jaime’s top lip and sucking on it. He pulses against him – short bursts of vibration, achingly brief, making Jaime’s dick paint wet stripes on the inside of his boxers.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jaime pants, reaching down and rubbing his hand up and down Bart’s shaft through the thin grey cotton. “ _Please_ ,” he moans, and he almost doesn’t recognize his own voice, wrecked and hoarse, painted with urgency.

Bart says, “Jesus, Jaime, don’t stop touching me,” and then he turns it all the way on, vibrating against Jaime’s hand and leaking cock, sending sparks of warmth shooting all over Jaime’s skin, like Bart is the physical manifestation of electricity, lighting him up from the inside out. He swears and shakes, fucking into the motion, unsure what language he’s even speaking, unsure of anything except _slick_ and _hot_ and _oh God, yes_.

Bart grunts out, “I’m gonna – _fuck_ ,” and then he vibrates harder, a sprint of sensation that has Jaime tightening up before he even knows what’s hitting him.

And then – “yes, Bart, _oh_ – ” and shocks of pleasure burn down his legs, fill his stomach with buzzing, his eyes glaze over and he sighs all the air out of his lungs. Hot liquid shoots inside his boxers, smearing all over his stomach and sliding into the crease of his hip. He realizes after several seconds that he’s digging his fingers into Bart’s side, probably painfully, and he detaches his hand, letting it flop to the ground.

The _ground_. “Madre de Dios,” he breathes, flicking his eyes up to Bart, who’s still shuddering over him in the aftershocks of his orgasm. “Bart, we just had sex in a cornfield.”

Bart collapses on top of him and huffs a deep breath. “That’s funny; in _my_ timeline, sex usually involves, you know.” He makes Jaime’s fingers form a circle and then shoves his index finger into it. “Penetration.”

Jaime rolls his eyes. “I think you’re getting hung up on the wrong part of sentence there, hermano.”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Cornfield.” Bart folds his arms over Jaime’s chest and balances his chin on them, smiling lazily. “So crash. Very Midwestern. I’m sure Barry would be proud.”

Jaime makes a face at him and then drops his head back, letting his eyes roam across the sky. “I guess it’s kind of romantic.”

“Kind of,” Bart agrees. Jaime expects him to make some smartass remark about the romance of having jizz crusting in your boxers, but instead, Bart nuzzles his chest, letting out a contented sigh.

It’s a moment before he realizes that Bart isn’t moving at all. He’s breathing steadily, Jaime can feel his heartbeat and the rhythmic draw of his lungs, but his fingers aren’t tapping, his toes aren’t scratching any patterns into the dirt, his jaw isn’t working – he’s just lying there, draped over Jaime like a warm, boy-smelling blanket, sealing them together by sweat and come and whatever force compelled Jaime to come find him in the first place.

“You good?” he whispers, pressing a kiss into Bart’s hair.

“I am crash as fuck,” Bart replies through a yawn. “You?”

“Yeah,” Jaime smiles, wrapping his arms around Bart and pulling them closer together still. “Uh, I hate to ruin the mode, but we should probably get back soon. I told Nightwing I’d come find you like, twenty-five minutes ago.”

 _Twenty-seven, Jaime Reyes. And forty-five seconds_.

“God, don’t you ever hibernate?” he says out loud without meaning to.

Bart groans and rolls off of him, hunching into a sitting position. “Did the scarab just watch us get off in a cornfield?”

“I think so,” Jaime mutters. “That’s pretty creepy.”

Bart pulls his pants on and grins. “Hey, maybe it’ll be too traumatized to start the Reach apocalypse.”

Jaime armors up from the waist down and laughs, leaning forward to press their lips together in a sloppy, chaste kiss. “Is that your sales pitch for doing this more often?”

“Maybe.” Bart raises a challenging eyebrow. “Is it working?”

Jaime looks around at the bed of flattened stalks, imprints made from their bodies, sharp divots in the dirt from the toes of Bart’s boots. “Hey, you know me. I’m a pretty easy sell.”

Bart rubs a hand down his back and winds his fingers into his hair. “Mm. Easy for me,” he murmurs against his lips.

Jaime sighs and kisses him deeply, ending with a peck to the corner of his mouth, before armoring all the way up and spreading his wings. “Sí,” he admits, glad Bart can’t see his blush. “Always easy for you.”

“You mind carrying me back?” Bart asks, snapping his goggles into place. “Pretty sure I’m gonna chafe like hell if I run right now.” He winks and holds out his arms expectantly.

Jaime snorts. “You actually _want_ me to carry you?”

Bart shrugs. “It’s not so bad. I get to be all wrapped up in those strong arms.” He bats his eyelashes, and then bursts out laughing at Jaime’s confused expression. “Blue, God, you’re slow after you come. Seriously, it’s mad uncomfortable to run with, uh, _emissions_ all up in my mode.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Jaime grabs him under the armpits and takes off in the direction of the Kent barn. “Quit squirming, I don’t want to drop you. If you fall to your death, my grief might jump-start the Reach apocalypse.”

Bart chuckles, then ducks his head and kisses the tips of Jaime’s fingers. “Hey, you know we’ll figure this out, right? Together?”

“Yeah,” Jaime says quietly, pulling him a little closer. “It’s really up to us, isn’t it?”

“I think so,” Bart says after a moment. “You, me, and that voyeur alien riding your bones. We can stop it. I know we can.”

The barn looms in the distance, and Jaime doesn’t trust himself to echo Bart’s confidence, so he presses a kiss to the back of Bart’s neck instead. _I meant what I said earlier_ , he thinks to the scarab. _I’ll die before I let you hurt him. Or anyone_.

The scarab, for once, is silent. He hopes that means it’s on board.


End file.
